Not claiming to be poet.
Didn't set out to be a writer.
Just needed a space, even if virtual.
To clear my head.
Keep thoughts organized.
An outlet, if you will, for my mind and soul.

Monday, March 31, 2014

Sweet Child of Mine

A few minutes after putting you to bed tonight you came into the office, stating you could not fall sleep. "When I close my eyes, I hear people yelling and fighting about me." I shushed you away, as I tend to do, brushing it off as an excuse to stay up past your bedtime. You turned around disappointed, walking out the door saying, not so under your breath, "You only care about the old people you work with!" I kept working, trying to cram a weeks worth of undone notes into a Sunday night. Not ten minutes later, I went into your room feeling you might still be awake. You laid there, staring at the ceiling, sheet up to your neck, clenching your Mr. Alf. As I approached your bed, you moved over slightly making space for me to lay down next to you. I obligued, then you happily and sweetly curled up under my arm. Immediately I was transported to a time, not so long ago, when my baby would not fall asleep unless I laid next to her. As I laid there, giving you piojito and cosquillitas, Rockabye Baby's rendition of Guns-N-Roses Sweet Child of Mine came on, further adding to the nostalgia.

Where do we go now, sweet child of mine? With today's sunrise we argued in frustration, at sunset we cuddled restfully. Our relationship, although new, has been an emotional whirlwind. A love, like and not-so-much mother-daughter bond. There in the darkness of your room, on your tiny little bed it was the former. You moved Mr. Alf from in between us, "I don't need him, I'm not lonely anymore." Catharsis, in the smallest action, by a small child. I know what it feels like to feel lonely, while not being alone. I know what it feels like to hold on to a memory, a trinket, a stuffed animal, a lost soul with a glimer of hope.

The past year has not been an easy one for us. It hasn't been the first, although your recollection believes the contrary and it will not be the last. The decisions that I had to make are not yours to understand now. There will be a time, maybe sooner than later judging by how fast it tends to pass, when the reality may become more clear. It may be until you are more than a daughter, a woman, possibly even a mother when you will fully understand why choices pertaining to you, yet out of your control were made. Why sometimes what appears to be contentment is ruined, followed by a less than favorable transtion to an eventual new norm.

I have been known to say, I would have gotten my PhD by now and it would have been easier than being a mommy. I won't lie and say it isn't true. Even so, I wouldn't trade you and your sister for anything, even the fancy Dr title I so covet. The lessons I have learned and continue to learn about all that I am and strive to be are inspired by the two small, great people in my life. Your sister and you have taught me more about myself, being a woman, a daughter, sister, aunt, mother, human, than anything else ever could. The birth of you both changed me forever. Strength and courage I had no idea existed were also born with you. But it was the toughest decision I had to make that drew out that internal courage, strength, maternal instinct to change the future. It was that decision made for the greater good of all I love, myself included, that will make the people yelling and screaming in your head a faint memory.
3/30/14 RR.